


Five Incoming

by Sophia_Bee



Series: Charles and Erik: Man on The Train [5]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Comfort Sex, Dark, Doctors & Physicians, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Medical Professionals, Medical Trauma, Nurses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2907044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is called into work when a mass shooting occurs. Scott is one of the attending physicians on that night and they end up working side by side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Incoming

**Author's Note:**

> So many thanks to **Lapetiteyoyo** for the beta! 
> 
> A few notes about this piece. 
> 
> First, it's not fluffy. Charles has a very hard job. This is sometimes part of it. 
> 
> Second *TRIGGER* if you have trouble with trauma, mass shootings, death from mass shootings. 
> 
> A quick medical terminology glossary:
> 
> MCI - mass casualty incident  
> GSW - gun shot wound  
> LOC - loss of consciousness  
> Pressers - drugs that increase your blood pressure  
> PEA - pulseless electrical activity, aka your heart looks like its beating but it's not  
> Resus - stands for resuscitation room. 
> 
> If I've missed something or you would like explanation of anything, please tell me.

Charles shivers as the cold air hits his skin sending goosebumps up his arms. His heart is pounding so hard he thinks he can feel the blood rushing through his ears. His mouth is dry. He stands in the middle of his bedroom - their bedroom - struggling to pull on his scrubs and staring at their bed where Erik is still slumbering peacefully.

He doesn’t usually bring his phone into the bedroom, but Raven said she might call from London and Charles hadn’t wanted to miss her call. Even though he saw his sister at Christmas, it’s been two months since then and he misses her. That’s why when the phone buzzed he had grabbed and sleepily said, “Raven,” into it only to hear Alex’s voice on the other end. Shit.

Alex is his manager and the moment Charles realizes it's him on the phone his whole body goes on alert. He glances at the clock on his nightstand and sees that it’s 1:30 am.  
Fuck.

“Charles?” Alex says, his voice sounding strained, “You’re there.”

“I am,” Charles says quickly, all semblances of sleep swept away by the adrenaline that’s coursing through his system. A call at 1:30 in the morning from his manager is not a good sign. It’s a very, very bad sign. Something is wrong.

“MCI,” Alex says in a clipped tone. “Five GSWs. A high school party gone wrong. They’re all enroute, two with ongoing CPR. I’m calling people in. We’re going to need help.”

Charles feels tears spring to his eyes. Oh god. He hates this.

It’s not just that there’s been a shooting. That's bad enough in itself. It's that the people he works with, the ones he cares about, will be on the front lines. They will be working to save lives and there’s a good chance they will fail. They will be tired and hungry and about to drop, and then later they will go home and cry. And there will be the families, screaming in the hallways, begging everyone to save their babies. These are the kinds of things that rip Charles apart. Yet, he can’t say no.

“Okay,” Charles says, closing his eyes briefly and pushing away the nausea he feels growing in his stomach.

Charles pulls on his scrub top on then stands at the end of the bed and stares at his still-sleeping husband who has drooled on his pillow. He debates whether or not he should wake him up. On one hand, Erik is going to be worried about him and he might even ask him not to go. He’s seen Charles more than once after a hard shift, held him as he cried, smoothed away the tears after a nightmare. He knows the toll this job takes. It would be better for him not to know what Charles is about to face. On the other hand, Charles thinks about Erik waking up alone, wondering where he’s gone, and he knows he owes his husband at least a quick explanation as to why he’s going in to work. Still, he looks so peaceful sleeping, flipped partially onto his stomach, his face entirely relaxed, and Charles hates to disturb him.

He walks to Erik’s side of the bed and places a hand on the sleeping man’s shoulder, shaking gently at first then a little harder until Erik stirs and opens his eyes, looking sleepily at Charles, and then he smiles, as if it’s a reflex upon seeing his husband standing at the side of the bed. This response never fails to warm Charles’ heart.

“Sweetheart.” Erik murmurs.

Erik, who rarely uses terms of endearment, almost always says something like this when Charles wakes him from a deep sleep, as if all of his shields are down and he can’t help himself. Charles would almost never be called ‘sweetheart’ during the daytime, but now, in the darkness of their room, he is ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darling’ or ‘my love’. Charles can’t help but smile despite the heaviness he feels in his chest and the fact that most likely someone will die today.

“They’re calling me in.” Charles whispers, and he sees Erik’s eyes go a little wide as he takes in the fact that Charles is in scrubs.

“Why?” Erik says, still sounding sleepy, but a bit less.

“MCI. Five GSWs. They need help.”

“Oh god,” Erik moans, rubbing his eyes. "They called?"

"Alex." Charles says, sighing. "They're enroute. If I leave now I can just catch the train..."

"I'll drive you," Erik says quickly, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, his hand going to rub his jaw. "Faster than the train."

One of the changes in Charles' life, besides his Surprise Husband, as he sometimes calls Erik, is a car. A small black Fiat they bought for going to Westchester or times when one of them needs to get into work quickly. It hasn't gotten much use since they both still mainly rely on the train to get around the city.

Charles nods his agreement and Erik stands up, naked as always, stretching tall and looking so deliciously sleepy and rumpled that Charles can't help but wish they had nothing but morning sex and cuddling on the agenda. He wants nothing more than to curl up with his husband and for five people to not be fighting for their lives.

Oh god. Charles swallows.

Erik throws on some sweat pants, a t-shirt and his long wool coat and they both head to the garage where the car is parked. Charles clicks on his seatbelt and leans back into the comfortable leather seat, staring out the window as they make their way through the quiet streets. He feels alert, almost vibrating, with what he knows lies ahead. Erik has both hands on the steering wheel and he drives in silence, both men lost in their thoughts.

The inevitable news crews are lining the sidewalk across from the emergency room when Erik pulls up outside the entrance. Women and men stand on the sidewalk in heavy wool coats looking too perky for 2 am in the morning, their hair perfectly coiffed, all prepped to prey on tragedy. At one point some of them had figured out that Charles Xavier, son of socialite Sharon Xavier, worked in the ED and had tried to talk to him, but Charles had told them he was one of many nurses who work at the hospital, and he was not the person who should make statements, then he called their stations and lodged a complaint. They had left him alone since then.

Charles’ phone beeps and he glances at it. It’s a text from Angel. They must have called her in as well. He glances at it.

Seven victims now. Gang shooting and shooter still at large. We’re on lockdown. Five minutes out.

Charles shuts his eyes briefly. There are some things he just won’t tell Erik because he’s sure that this information would be the tipping point and Erik would refuse to even stop the car and let him out. The car screeches to a halt outside the sliding glass doors and Charles recognizes one of the night shift nurses standing outside gazing down the streets. She sees him and waves quickly then returns to watching for the ambulances. In the distance he hears the wail of sirens and he feels a chill run through him. Five minutes. He leans over and gives Erik a kiss then looks his husband in squarely in the face, his hand coming up to stroke his cheek.

“You know I love you,” Charles says quietly, “right?”

Erik huffs out a little laugh, “you told me about five times just yesterday, Charles.”

Charles rolls his eyes, “yes, I did, but I want to hear that you KNOW it. I just...I need this Erik.”

Erik looks at him, his ice-blue eyes serious, his hair sticking up every which way and a bit of stubble on his jaw.

“Yes, Charles. I know it.” Erik says, his tone serious, and the way he’s looking at Charles takes Charles breath away. These kids that are on their way into the emergency room, they didn’t know it was possibly their last day on earth, and Charles feels that he lives with the ever-present knowledge that nothing in life is guaranteed. He just doesn’t want to leave Erik without making sure that Erik knows that he loves him. Charles leans further across the car and places a soft kiss on his husband’s lips.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Charles?” Erik asks, looking at him a little suspiciously.

Kind of, Charles thinks. Not really.

“Nurse fatalism,” Charles smiles, “what we do feels very much in my face at times like this. I don’t want to leave anything undone. Ever. Especially when it comes to you.”

Erik smiles, grabs Charles’ hand and squeezes it.

“I understand,” he says quietly. “I’ll bring you breakfast later.”

Charles frowns, his mind back to what lies ahead. “I don’t know,.” he says, “I may not be able to stop to eat and I did shove a couple protein bars in my pockets. I’ll be okay.”

“Coffee then.” Erik says, and Charles realizes he just wants a reason to come make sure he’s okay. That’s fine.

“Yes, coffee.” Charles says, managing to smile, “I love when you bring me coffee.”

One last kiss and Charles jumps out of the car and walks briskly through the sliding doors, infused with a sense of purpose. He comes up against a wall of people in blue scrubs; nurses, doctors, medical assistants, all standing staring at the doors. Some are wearing blue gowns to help with blood spatter. Everyone has on blue gloves. Alex is standing at the front, looking tall, blonde and confident as he stares intently at the doors, briefly glancing Charles’ way as he walks through them. Charles scans the crowd and sees Scott standing in the middle, a red sticker on his scrubs declaring him one of the ED attendings. He must have been rotating through tonight. Just Charles’ luck to have to work alongside his ex. Then he sees Angel standing at one end of the group and he walks over and gives her a quick squeeze on the shoulder before he heads to the break room and dumps his bag on the floor by one of the couches that night shift often naps on. No one is napping tonight. He returns to stand next to Angel and she glances over at him and gives him a wan smile. The whole scene is bizarrely quiet, the tension palpable and Charles can hear the wail of sirens getting louder and louder. They suddenly cut off and the nurse who had been standing outside sticks her head inside and yells at the top of her lungs, making sure everyone can hear.

“Rig on the ramp!”

Less than a minute later the doors slide open and the first of the gurneys roll in. There are paramedics on either side of it. Charles can’t tell if whoever is coming in is male or female, but their entire face is covered in blood, a tube in their throat and a paramedic bagging them, helping them breathe.

“15 year old male, GSW to the face, intubated in the field, last pressure 122/78, respirations 18, HR 92, sinus rhythm, two bags of fluids enroute….” one of the paramedics is telling Alex, who is now walking beside the crew as they head towards the first resuscitation room.

“Patient is stable. Do we have neurosurg here?” Alex says, projecting his voice but sounding calm. A woman behind Charles steps forwards and says they are present and to get the patient to CT STAT and call the OR to prep a room. Alex nods towards two nurses towards the front of the crowd and they join the paramedics. The gurney rattles down the hallway.

The group falls silent again. The seconds tick by.

“Second ambulance on the ramp,” the nurse at the front calls out into the silence and Charles can hear someone outside screaming. Moments after another crew rolls in. This time Charles can see that it’s a girl, and she looks impossibly young. She’s screaming and bucking as the paramedics struggle to try to keep her still.

“17 year old female, GSW to the right femur, last pressure 135/80, respirations 18, heart rate 130, no loss of consciousness.”

Alex looks around.

“Gen Surg?” he says and a doctor in front of Charles raises his hand and steps forward. “Get her to rescus 2!” and another team of nurses and medical assistants peel off. Charles rocks up onto the balls of his feet then back down on his heels, then clenches and unclenches his hands. He’s thrumming with tension, waiting for Alex to motion to him that it’s his turn.

“Third rig!” the nurse at the front calls out, “active CPR.”

This time when the stretcher rolls in one of the paramedics is straddled on top of it, his arms pushing rhythmically, his forehead covered in beads of sweat, and another is squeezing a bag that’s attached to a tube that’s been put down the victim’s throat.

“14 year old male, GSW to the chest, positive LOC, intubated in the field, pressers given in the field but he arrested in the rig, three bags normal saline enroute,” one the paramedics rattles off quickly.

Fourteen. Oh god. Charles feels his chest clench.

“The other four are still at the site being stabilized for transfer. Don’t know if they’ll come here but if they do, they’ll be maybe another twenty minutes out,” the paramedic squeezing the bag says.

“Resus 1!” Alex says, then he nods to Charles, indicating he should go with him. Charles surges forward and he sees out of the corner of his eye that Scott does too.

“I’ll take this one,” Scott says, then he looks directly at Charles who is standing staring at him. “Charles?”

Angel, who is still standing next to him, gives him a sideways glance. Charles swallows. One of the last things he wants is to be working with Scott. Since he had taken a job at the same hospital that both Charles and Erik work at, Charles had managed to keep things cordial between them. Erik was another matter, but he also wasn’t here at the moment, although Charles can’t even imagine how much he would bristle if he witnessed this. Now they would be working side by side, as a team and Scott is asking if it will be okay. Charles nods. Yes, it will be okay. He can do this. And Scott, despite his flaws as a human being, is a good doctor. Charles is a professional. He won’t break down into tears over his lost relationship in the middle of CPR. He’s sure of that.

The paramedics roll the gurney into the resus and immediately everyone starts to transfer the patient over, and one of the medical assistant starts hooking up their own equipment, removing the equipment from the field. The paramedic is still talking, and Scott is at the head of the bed, nodding as he listens. Charles hears bits and pieces. Pressers started in the field then patient crashed, PEA arrest, ongoing CPR…. Scott looks up and catches Charles’ eye.

“Charles, do you want to take over CPR?” he says calmly and Charles nods. Scott calls for a pulse check and the whole room goes silent, except for the sound of the doppler. No pulse, someone says, stating what they all know without saying, and Scott looks at Charles again.

“Restart compressions,” Scott says and Charles steps up and starts pushing hard, putting his whole body into it, the paramedic stepping out of the way and Charles sees that the other man suddenly looks exhausted, and he wonders how long he'd been working on the kid. At the head of the bed Scott is calling for labs, for blood, epinephrine. Charles keeps pushing down, his hands clasped, pushing on the center of the chest, and the room seems to slow down and he finds that he is in this strange zone that seems to stretch forever.

Fourteen years old. Oh god, fourteen. He remembers when Raven was fourteen, just starting high school, her entire life ahead of her. This could be her, everything ending at fourteen years old. Someone could be losing their brother tonight. Charles shakes the thought away. He can’t go there.

Sometimes he doesn’t know how he does this job and still sleeps at night.

Charles knows that people are on the phone right now, calling families, and it’s only a matter of time before they’re brought into the room and everyone will keep doing their jobs as they wail in the background, crying for a life lost too soon. It’s part of the job, but it’s not his favorite part.

The CPR continues.

Charles’ arms are aching. He hears someone behind him say “thirty seconds” and another person says the boy’s oxygenation isn’t improving. He’s going to die. Everyone in the room knows he’s going to die. Oh god. It all feels useless. Charles keeps pushing on the boy's lifeless chest.

“Pulse check,” Scott calls, and Charles straightens himself up, feeling an ache in his arms.

“Who’s up next?” Alex says from Charles’ left and Charles turns to smile at his manager. Angel taps him on the shoulder and he steps out of the way, staring at the boy on the stretcher whose arms are flailing with every compression as Angel get back on his chest.

“Slow down, Angel,” Scott says in a gentle voice, and Charles takes a moment to watch his ex-boyfriend. Scott is looking around the room, keeping track of everything that’s going on, and now and then he makes a comment, asking for another lab, telling Angel to slow down again, asking the respiratory therapist what the oxygenation status is, telling another nurse to put up another bag of fluids. He’s calm and in control, and for the first time ever Charles doesn’t see the man who broke his heart but a doctor, and a very good one at that. Scott's eyes find Charles' and Charles flashes Scott a small smile, despite the tension in the room. Scott smiles back. It’s a watershed moment, and Charles knows that things will be different from now on.

Another two minutes. Someone asks for a pulse check. The room goes quiet again and again, there is no pulse. Everything starts again and another nurse takes over for Angel.

It will go like this. Compressions. Pulse check. No pulse. Resume compressions. No one will say stop. Not now. Fourteen years old means you do everything you can do to save the boy whose eyes are staring vacantly towards the ceiling. It means you don’t give up and it means that afterwards you find a place to quietly cry for everything that has been lost tonight. A family somewhere will never be the same.

They code the boy for an hour and a half. Charles rotates through the chest compressions, his arms aching, tears he cannot shed pricking at his eyes. Scott stays at the head of the bed the entire time, his hair growing dark with sweat, his voice never wavering and finally, when everyone is feeling wrung out and overwhelmed with hopelessness, he says it’s time to stop. They've done everything they can.

The whole room goes quiet as everyone steps back, almost at once. It’s a strange moment of calm, and Charles knows that it won’t last long. There’s probably another shooting victim they’re working to save in another resus. As the sun starts to peek up over the Atlantic and the rest of the world starts to wake up there is a persistent feeling of weariness amongst the staff.

“Did you get a break?”

Charles turns to see Angel is standing next to him, staring at the body on the stretcher. Her eyes are shining with tears.

“No,” Charles sighs, looking back to the boy on the stretcher. “Some are harder than others, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” she says, “I’m going to need a drink after this one.”

“Me too,” says Charles, “maybe about five breakfast martinis.”

Suddenly he wishes Raven wasn’t in London. It’s one of those days when he wants to call his sister, make her come over to make waffles with him, and she would make him laugh and he would be deeply grateful that she’s alive, that she hadn't been shot at a party when she was fourteen, and slowly this day would slip away. Plus Raven would totally make him a martini even though it was only 8 am.

“Oh,” Angel says, “your delicious husband is in the break room with coffee. He actually brought some for all of us.”

Erik. All of a sudden Charles aches to see him, to wrap his arms around him, and he turns and walks quickly out of the resus, leaving the fourteen year old boy behind, and heads towards the break room. The whole emergency department, formerly quiet, is now abuzz with activity, people everywhere, and he can see that they are indeed working on resuscitating another shooting victim, but a quick glance says that effort is going better. A social worker is talking to a group of family members who are huddled against a wall, one of them sobbing audibly. Charles walks past them, going faster, needing to get away from all of this and to get to Erik. By the time he get into the break room, everything he’s been holding back has risen to the surface and Charles is feeling shaky, as if he might fly apart any moment. It’s too much. Erik is slouched in one of the chairs lined around their table and he’s alone in the break room. When he sees Charles, he seems to know immediately what is needed because the moment their eyes lock together, he’s on his feet and folding Charles into his arms. Charles buries his face into his husband’s scratchy wool coat and takes a deep, shaky breath, inhaling Erik’s warm scent. He smells so good, like home, and it’s what Charles needs at this moment.

“Oh god, Erik,” Charles says shakily, “it’s too much. It’s just too much.”

He wants to cry. He really should cry, but he can’t. He just trembles and feels the safety of those arms that hold him every night holding him now. Charles takes another deep breath and wills his heart to slow down, and he thinks that he should be able to do this. He shouldn’t be standing here needing Erik so badly, feeling so broken and useless in life. This is his fucking job and he should be able to do this. God, why does he feel so wrecked. Then Charles pulls back and looks up at Erik, who is looking back at him with so much love it makes Charles heart clench.

“You brought coffee,” Charles says, forcing a smile despite feeling like he’s going to spin off his axis any moment.

“Figured you’d be tired.” Erik murmurs.

Charles does feel tired. Bone weary in a way that he rarely, if ever, has felt. He wants to go to sleep right now, to slump against Erik’s broad, warm chest, close his eyes and drift away.

“Day shift comes on in about an hour,” Charles says, “and then you can take me home.”

“Yes,” Erik whispers in his hair, “home.”

They both hear the sound of the code being inputted into the break room door and pull apart just as Scott pokes his head around it then proceeds to turn a bit red as he sees Charles and Erik standing very close to each other. Charles feels Erik bristle and he takes his husband’s hand and tries to squeeze it reassuringly.

“Oh Charles, I was looking for you...um, well. I’m sorry I’m interrupting. I’ll just leave you two...” Scott stammers, and he starts to shut the door but Charles calls out to him.

“Wait,” Charles says, “I need to get back out there. I’ll come with you.”

He thinks he can hear the growl as Erik digests his words. Charles turns to look at Erik, and although he still feels like he might fall apart, he’s not quite as shaky and he needs to go help. It's why he's here.

“It’s okay.” Charles says softly, squeezing Erik’s hand to reassure him. “It’s really okay.”

Something has changed tonight, and he’ll have time to explain it to Erik later, and maybe then Erik can finally let go of his Scott jealousy. But right now all he can do is reassure his husband that it’s okay if he goes with Scott.

“Okay,” Erik says slowly, glaring a little at Scott, “I’ll be waiting here.” Erik cracks his knuckles and Charles thinks he might be flexing a little bit, and this makes Charles roll his eyes. Even in the middle of all of this, Erik can still manage to be Charles’ very own entirely ridiculous husband. It’s somehow comforting. Charles goes up on tip toe and kisses Erik on the cheek.

“Thank you, darling,” Charles says, “I’ll be back soon.” And with that he turns and follows Scott back into the emergency department.

“So,” Scott says, glancing over at Charles as they walk down the hallway together. “That kid. The trauma code. You were amazing."

Charles looks at Scott and he sees only admiration on his ex's face. Charles smiles at him.

"You were amazing too Scott," Charles says genuinely, "maybe the best attending I've ever worked with."

"Really?" Scott says, sounding surprised, "do you mean that?"

“Yes.” Charles sighs. It's the truth. He would be happy to work with Scott again in a heartbeat. They keep walking, heading towards the trauma resuses, not talking, and Charles is lost in thought. Suddenly he feels Scott's hand on his arm.

"Wait," Scott says, his voice sounding nervous, "I...I want to say something."

Charles stops and turns to look at Scott, unable to hide his surprise. Is he really going to do this now? In the middle of an MCI? Scott clears his throat and it appears that yes, he is.

"There's a lot of shit between us, Charles." Scott says, sounding sad. That's one way of putting it, Charles thinks to himself. Maybe the simplest.

"Yes." Charles replies, not sure if there is much he can say about their situation.

"I...I just wish it wasn't this way." Scott says, still sounding sad. Charles wishes a lot of things. He wishes he'd never thought he loved Scott and wished his heart had never been crushed. He wishes he hadn't spent countless nights feeling like such a fool. He wishes he hadn't been so hurt that he almost turned his back on the man who turned out to be the love of his life. The whole thing is sad if Charles thinks about it. Even with Erik and being married, there is part of him that always feels sad about what happened with Scott.

"Me too," Charles says warily. Scott looks so hurt, and there would have been a time when that would have made Charles want to wipe all of it away, but not now. What happened between them hurt, and it gives Charles some satisfaction that it clearly hurt both of them.

"I mean, it all worked out for the best, right? You have Erik..."

For the best? Charles thinks you could put it that way, but it hurt a hell of a lot before it worked out for the best.

"Yes," Charles says, unable to avoid a small smile at the thought of his husband. "I have Erik." Sweet, funny, protective Erik who would gladly take out Scott in a dark alleyway given the chance.

“You really love him.”

Charles throws Scott an incredulous look, not entirely sure where this conversation is going. “Well, I married him and I put up with him, so yes, I really love him.”

“And you’re happy.” Scotts says.

“Really, Scott, where is this line of questioning leading?” Charles finally says. They stand staring at each other in the hallway, neither saying anything.

“I don’t know,” Scott finally sighs, “I guess...I just thought that he might be a rebound thing and it all happened so fast, and I guess I worry about you, you know….”

“Ha,” Charles scoffs. As if he has the right. “Please, Scott, after all we’ve been through, don’t worry about me.”

Scott looks strangely sad at Charles’ reaction. “I guess I just feel responsible. I hate how things ended with us, and I never should have let things go that far, and I’m...I guess I just have never had a chance to apologize.”

Charles feels his anger soften a little. For the first time Scott is actually saying he’s sorry, and it dislodges something that’s been stuck inside Charles for a long time. Charles fights back the urge to say it’s okay, to let what happened between him and Scott slip into the past, because it wasn’t okay. It almost destroyed him. It may never be entirely okay but it is over. Charles looks at Scott and says nothing.

"You just seem really happy Charles" Scott continues, "Erik seems like a great fit. The way you look at him, well, you never looked at me that way. He's a lucky man. You...you are really amazing Charles."

Charles looks at Scott suspiciously. "I hope you're not having regrets, Scott."

"Oh," Scott huffs, "I've always had regrets when it comes to you. Ever since the moment I turned you down. It was one of the hardest decisions I've ever made, but we all have to live with our regrets, right?"

"Yes," Charles says, nodding solemnly, looking at Scott, "we do."

"I just...it's just that I really enjoyed working with you today and I would like it if we could try being friends."

"Scott...." Charles says quietly, his voice full of trepidation.

"...and maybe if we’re friends your husband will stop challenging me to arm wrestling matches." Scott says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Charles huffs out a little laugh. He can't help it. Erik is so ridiculous and so dear at the same time. "Oh god, did he do that?"

Scott nods, "Well, just once. I assume he has his charms because most of the time he just looks at me like he wants to beat me up."

Charles chuckles, "oh yes, he does have his charms."

"So, what do you think?” Scott asks, “Can we be friends?"

Charles thinks about what friends means. He's not sure if he's entirely ready. It's Scott after all and Scott feels too complicated for friends.

"Maybe we can start by not being enemies and go from there." Charles says, offering up a smile.

Scott smiles back and nods. "That sounds really good,"

“Okay.” Charles says, “now, shall we get back to work?”

“Yeah,” Scott says, “we should.”

The next few hours pass by in a blur. The girl with the broken femur has gone to surgery. The boy with the GSW to the head is in the OR as well. They end up resuscitating the other code Charles had passed by earlier. The other kids coming in from the scene have more minor injuries. Charles keeps working, giving pain meds, starting IVs, showing a family to one of the stretchers where a girl with shrapnel wounds is sitting, trembling, her face streaked with tears and blood, helping clean up another bed so they can bring someone else in. The overall atmosphere is calmer and everyone is working hard. The worst is over and soon Alex taps him on the shoulder and tells him it’s time for report.

Charles almost sags with relief. He made it.

“Thank you for coming in, Charles,” Alex says, “we all did the best we could. Go home and get some sleep.”

They look at each other and Charles knows that the dead fourteen year old is someone they will both carry with them for a long time. He sees a lot, and some of it he can make sense of, but it’s always hard to make sense of a dead kid. Now that the end of his shift is finally here, Charles feels that deep weariness start to creep back in and suddenly he can’t wait to get through report and back home.

Erik is waiting for him when he gets done and walks out of the break room, bag thrown over his shoulder.

“You’re a fucking mess, Nurse Xavier.” Erik says, smiling, but his eyes betray the lightness of his tone. They are full of worry. Charles glances down at his scrubs. They are wrinkled and have some blood spattered across the front. Oh god, he is a mess.

“Just get me home, love.” Charles sighs, unable to care much about what he looks like right now.

“Of course,” Erik says as he moves closer to Charles, putting his arm around his shoulder, pulling him close and tucking him tightly against his side, allowing Charles to lean against him. Charles feels something break inside him and his breath hitches. It’s too much. Erik’s love and concern and kindness cuts through everything Charles has been using to keep himself together. He feels himself tremble. Not much longer now. Not long until he's safely back home.

They walk past Angel who’s waiting for her ride on the curb.

“See you later, Charles!” she calls to him, “strong work back there.”

“You too, Angel.” Charles smiles.

“Take care of him, Dr. L!” Angel says, looking pointedly at Erik, “He kicked ass today.”

“Oh, I will.” Erik says warmly, and Charles heart skips a beat. He’s filled with gratitude to have this man by his side. Not long ago he would have had to get through all of this mostly alone, and now he has Erik.

Charles can finally relax once he’s slumped in the passenger seat of their car. Erik starts the car then glances over at Charles, watching him for a long moment. Charles can’t even imagine what he looks like. He feels entirely wrung out.

"I know it's the worst possible time to say this, but god, you're beautiful," Erik says softly, "and so amazing."

"Erik!" Charles protests, feeling the heat rise up his cheeks.

“You've helped a lot of people today, Nurse Xavier. Now it's my turn to help. What do you need from me?” Erik asks, still looking at Charles. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

Charles smiles. Erik is really all he needs. Nothing more and nothing less, but his husband is asking him for something concrete.

“First I need a shower. A long, hot shower.” Charles sighs. “Then I need waffles.”

“Waffles?” Erik repeats. “I can do that.”

“And a breakfast martini. Raven wrote down the recipe somewhere.”

“Shower, food, alcohol. All pretty easy to do,” Erik says with a smile then he puts the car in gear and they head towards home. Charles stares out the window. He can’t get that fourteen year old out of his head, and he thinks that a family went to sleep last night with him alive and woke in the morning and he was dead. Charles feels a sob building and he tries to choke it back.

“Erik?” Charles says as they wind their way through the streets near their townhouse.

“Yes, love?” Erik says, glancing over.

“I need to talk to Raven. I mean, I know she’s okay, but what if she isn’t. Those kids in there. They could have been her. Someone could just shoot her and she's be gone, like that boy. She could be…” Charles feels the tears that he’s been holding back start to wet his cheeks. “I just need to talk to her.”

“Okay.” Erik says firmly, “I’ll call her while you’re in the shower.”

Charles nods, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hands. His breath hitches a little and he goes back to staring out the window. They arrive at the townhouse and Erik pulls into the garage. He turns off the car and turns to look at Charles.

“Shower, call Raven, waffles, martini. Anything else?”

“Sleep?” Charles says, smiling, feeling a little better now that they’re home. “Would you sleep with me?”

“Of course," Erik says softly, "I’m exhausted. I can sleep. I’ll put fresh sheets on the bed.”

Their bed sounds so good, and with some fresh, crisp cotton sheets, Charles almost wants to crawl into it right now. He wants to let Erik wrap his big, strong arms around him, press against his back, his lips against the nape of Charles neck, and then he can sleep and let all of this go.

“And when we wake up,” Charles continues, flashing a smile at his husband then licking his lips. “You can fuck me senseless.”

“Of course,” Erik says, frowning a bit, as if that’s the most logical thing in the world and a bit silly to even ask. “I’m always willing to do that if needed.”

“And Erik,” Charles says, his tone turning serious, “thank you. I don’t know if I could have made it through today without you.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t have to,” Erik says, his eyes full of love. “Now, let’s go home."

Home, Charles thinks. He's so glad to be home. It's been a damn long day but now it's over and he's home.

Hours later Charles is clean and fed and has fallen fast asleep, Erik wrapped around him, the later afternoon sunlight peeking through the cracks of the blinds that cover the windows of their room. They are naked, skin against skin, curled together under the duvet. Charles' sleep is heavy and dreamless until he’s back there, on the chest of the dead boy, his eye staring up at Charles. He’s all alone and he can’t save him, so he keeps doing compressions, his arms aching, his whole body trembling with exertion. Then the boy turns into Raven and she’s dead. His sister is dead. Then the man with the IV pole is there and he swings it at Charles and Charles realizes there's no way he's going to escape this time. The air whistles as the pole cuts through it and it's about to hit Charles in the head when....

Charles wakes with a scream and there are strong arms around him, pulling him close. He’s shaking and his heart is racing, and he needs to find Raven. He needs to find her right away, because this morning she was alive and now she’s dead….

“Charles. Sweetheart. It’s okay,” a voice slurs sleepily in his ear, deep and rumbling, and Charles is confused. He knows that voice. Erik. Erik’s voice. Oh god, Erik. Slowly he starts to look around. He’s in his room. Their room. He’s not at the hospital. Raven isn’t...she’s not dead. He talked to her. She and Hank have plans for dinner. She misses him. She’s alive and he talked to her.

"Raven." Charles chokes out.

“Shhhhhh,” Erik whispers, his hand smoothing Charles’ hair, and Charles realizes that his cheeks are wet with tears. He buries his face into Erik’s bare chest. “She's okay. You’re safe.”

Slowly Charles feels the tension drain from his body and Erik’s hand moves to his arm, running down it in slow soothing strokes in the same manner a mother might soothe a child, then they go to his back and trace wide circles across his shoulder blades and lastly he draws a warm trail down the length of Charles’ spine with his fingers. Charles sighs heavily, letting go of his worry and his fear until the only thing he can feel are Erik’s hands. Strong, warm, soothing.

He’s about to go back to sleep, eyes fluttering shut, when Erik tilts his head forward and softly places a kiss on Charles neck. It’s a soft, sweet touch, and slowly something inside Charles starts to crumble. Charles breathes in sharply as Erik places another kiss just below the first, and this time Charles muscles tense and he shivers, a deep shiver of desire that goes all the way down to his toes. Another kiss and Charles moans.

“Let me take care of you,” Erik whispers against the base of Charles’ neck. Charles nods wordlessly and his fingers tangle in Erik’s hair. Yes, my love, Charles thinks. Take care of me.

“Always,” Charles manages to whisper as Erik’s mouth starts to make its way down to his clavicle. Erik keeps kissing his skin and Charles loves every single touch of his lips. He writhes as Erik kisses and licks one nipple, then another. He moans when Erik nuzzles into the hair that trails down from his belly button, but when Erik’s head goes lower, Charles gasps out his name and Erik looks up at him..

It’s not that his cock doesn’t want Erik’s mouth on it. His cock is practically begging for Erik’s mouth, standing at attention and weeping because it’s so hard, but that’s not what the rest of Charles wants. He wants Erik. He wants to kiss him and stare into his eyes as he comes, so he puts a hand out and stills his husband on his journey southward.

“Kiss me,” Charles manages to whisper, although he’s not entirely sure how he’s even able to speak at this point. “I want to see you.”

He needs this. Erik growls his name and slides up Charles’ body, his mouth colliding with Charles in a passionate and hungry kiss that leaves Charles spinning. Oh god, this is what he wants. He wants to spin and spin until he can’t feel, to cling to Erik, to be swept away.

Erik takes his hand and spits into it, not wanting to fumble for the lube in the dresser table, then snakes it between their bodies. He swipes the precum that is leaking from Charles’s cock, making his hand even slicker, then he takes both their cocks in that big square hand and he starts to pump them together. The friction of Erik’s cock on Charles’, the tightness of Erik’s hand, the movement back and forth, is as close to perfection as Charles can imagine right now, and he breaks away from Erik’s mouth, which has been kissing him over and over the entire time, and stares at his husband as his whole body comes alive with sensation. He’s flooded with tingling and tightness that starts at his groin and spreads outward, until his toes curl and his fingers dig into Erik’s muscled back. Charles mouth goes slack and he moans from deep in his belly as the sensation continues to build.

“I’m going to come,” Charles manages to gasp, thinking that maybe Erik will slow down, maybe their dance will be a beautiful choreography tonight, back and forth, ebbing and flowing until both of them are standing on the edge of the abyss and then tip over. It won’t be that, because Erik looks at him, his pupils so huge and dark they take over the ice-blue of his eyes and there is sweat beading up on his brown, and he says, in a voice hoarse with sex and want and love and everything else mixed together.

“Let it go, Charles. Just let it go.”

With those words the tightness grows unbearable and then it releases. Charles feels the sweetness of relief, a moment of pure blankness, no thoughts, not dead children, no pain, just that sweet clench and release. He arches back, choking out Erik’s name, and ‘oh god yes’ followed by, ‘feels so good’ then he curls forward, collapsing in on himself, his arms tightening around Erik, his mouth seeking his husband’s for one sloppy kiss after another, and in between he gulps for air and his whole body shakes. It’s easily the most intense orgasm Charles has had in recent memory. When he can finally stop kissing Erik and is resting his forehead on his shoulder, he notices that Erik is still working his own cock, Charles'’ come on his hand, his face screwed up in frustration. It seems patently unfair that Charles should be so post-orgasmicly languid and content when his husband is clearly still frustrated.

“Let me,” Charles murmurs, pushing Erik onto his back while at the same time pushing Erik’s hand aside. Charles is shaking in the aftermath of his orgasm, but he still manages to prop himself up on one elbow, then he takes Erik’s poor, swollen cock into his hand. Erik shudders at his touch. It’s slick with spit and come, so it’s easy for Charles to give it just the amount of grip he knows Erik likes and start to slowly jack off his husband. With every downward stroke he massages Erik’s balls, and with every upward stroke, he gives a little twist, flicking his thumb quickly across Erik’s leaking slit, gathering up more precum, then he brings his hand back down.  
He does this over and over, faster and faster.

Erik is moaning now, his head thrashing back and forth on the pillow. Charles leans his head down and places a kiss on the curve of Erik’s shoulder.

“Ah,” Erik gasps, “that’s it, oh that’s it. It’s so good Charles. You are so good.”

Charles grins. He loves the sound of Erik coming undone. He's moaning Charles' name.

_Charles, Charles, Charles..._

“Oh god, here it comes.” Erik spits out, and moments later his whole body goes stiff with the force of his orgasm and he spurts hot and sticky all over Charles’ hand. Charles releases his cock and collapses down onto the bed, curling into his husband’s side, watching his chest rise and fall, his respirations ragged in the aftermath of his orgasm. When Erik is done twitching, he turns his head and he smiles at Charles, his eyes heavy-lidded, his mouth swollen from kisses.

“Are the ghosts gone?” Erik asks. Charles blinks.

The night, the emergency room, the dead kid, have all slipped away into the background, and Charles doesn't feel them looming. Instead he is languid and content, and loved. He feels thoroughly loved.

“They are, my love.” Charles whispers, laying his head on Erik’s chest and tangling up their legs together.

For now, Charles adds silently. He doesn’t say those words out loud. But as long as Erik is next to him, he can keep them mostly at bay.

 

~fin~


End file.
